The canopy attendant came over, efficiently cleaning up the mess on the ground, righting the overturned table and stabilizing it, even replacing the rose exactly as it had been.
Luo Ren said, “I haven’t forgotten anything… When I was near death, I remember you were the one who brought me back.”
Qingmu fell silent, then, after a while, let out a long sigh.
Salmon and prawns were placed on the table again. This time Qingmu used chopsticks, picking up a slice with refined manners.
He said, “You were shot then, with a punctured lung. You were completely delirious—I thought you were going to die.”
Luo Ren smiled slightly. “I don’t remember.”
Qingmu also smiled. “That’s when I found out you were afraid of dying, too. You grabbed me and said many things.”
“What did I say?”
“The Chinese believe in returning to their roots like falling leaves, that even in death, you want to die in your homeland. You asked me to take you back.”
What happened next, Luo Ren did remember: “Then you dumped me in a rental room in a border town.”
“I hired someone to bring you three meals every day.”
At this point, Qingmu paused, his thin lips pressing together tightly like a line carved by a knife: “Besides, you were still breathing at that time, but I had nine brothers whose bodies I needed to collect.”
It felt like a hammer striking the back of his head. Suddenly, his eyes stung, and Luo Ren’s right hand clenched tightly.
Qingmu’s gaze swept across his tightly clenched hand, then quickly moved away. In a calm tone, he told him what happened afterward.
“I went back to the Cheetah’s mansion. It was like a haunted house—so many days had passed, yet outsiders still dared not enter.”
Yes, the Cheetah’s mansion on that isolated island had always been forbidden territory. Locals would take a wide detour even when passing by. Occasionally, hearing gunshots from the mansion, they would think: Oh, the Cheetah has killed someone again.
“I didn’t find the Cheetah’s body. The mansion was almost exactly as it had been during the fight. I collected everyone’s remains. Yureis had been floating in the swimming pool for a long time, his body bloated. Ivan was hanging upside down from a steel hook on the second-floor stairs, almost completely drained of blood…”
He glanced at Luo Ren, then skipped the rest: “I burned down the mansion and had them buried in the jungle where we had lived. I originally wanted to cremate them and send their ashes back to their hometowns, but… You know.”
Yes, he knew. They came from all corners of the world. None of them were Filipino. They had met on that sweltering land, would talk about money, life, and women, but rarely spoke of their backgrounds. No one mentioned happy lives—if they had happy lives, they probably wouldn’t have ended up alone in such a place with their lives constantly at risk.
“Then what?”
“Then I kept searching for news of the Cheetah.” Qingmu extended his hand and heavily patted his shoulder. “Nine lives sacrificed here. Until I confirm she’s truly dead, I can’t sleep at night.”
Luo Ren said, “I’ve also had people looking for you, and keeping an eye on Mindanao Island… but I thought the Cheetah was dead.”
He thought she was dead. During that fierce battle—fists, feet, blades, and guns—both sides had fought with bloodshot eyes. In the end, he had flicked his wrist, sending a flying knife into the Cheetah’s left eye. She had screamed in agony, losing her footing and falling from the upper floor…
He had leaned over to look, but suddenly one of the Cheetah’s subordinates appeared from somewhere, spraying a burst of gunfire. The bullets hit flesh with muffled sounds. He hadn’t felt pain, only seen blood. Qingmu had rushed up with a roar, dragging him backward in retreat.
Passing by the swimming pool, he had seen the small-framed Yureis floating face down on the water’s surface—even though Yureis had learned to swim, he never liked water. But at the moment of death, his soul was forever trapped in water.
Qingmu said, “I searched for a year. I was about to give up, thinking she must be dead. But one day, two things happened.”
“Which two things?”
“First, people in our circle said that in a casino, a woman wearing sunglasses was asking about someone named Luo.”
“And the other?”
Qingmu’s mouth twitched, his gaze filled with murderous intent: “Yureis and the others’ graves were dug up.”
Luo Ren closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “So, you came to find me?”
Qingmu placed both hands on the table, leaning in his direction, lowering his voice.
“Luo, I’ve arranged everything. We’ll go through Myanmar, take a boat to Malaysia, to Tawau in Sabah. A speedboat will be waiting for us there to go to Mindanao.”
“When?”
“Seven days from now, right here, we’ll meet.”
Luo Ren smiled slightly, then nodded.
Qingmu said, “I’m a reasonable person. I don’t do excessive things. I’ll give you time to say goodbye to your friends. Also, to settle things with your little lamb, let her go back to the meadow watched over by sheepdogs. Luo, that’s not your world.”
His voice was as soft as a whisper: “Your world isn’t here. It’s in that place surrounded by the sea to the south. You’re still alive, but you died there long ago, and so did I, along with our brothers, and your beautiful little daughter.”
Qingmu stood up, dragging his heavy leg, step by step, turning to leave.
Luo Ren sat there, motionless, not looking back, until the canopy attendant came over with the bill.
Two rounds of meal charges, tableware damage fees, service charges—all silently listed on the paper, not a cent discounted.
From the distance came the sound of car engines starting. Only then did Luo Ren realize people were gradually leaving.
1:45 AM.
Luo Ren paid the bill and returned to his car parked outside the village. Just as he was about to start the engine, someone knocked on the window: tap, tap, tap.
Opening it, he saw the woman who had given him the rose.
In a gentle voice, she said, “Sir, could I get a ride? The fare can be arranged in any form.”
Luo Ren said, “We’re not going the same way.”
The woman looked puzzled, pointing to the only road leading out of the village: “There’s only one way out.”
“I’m going to find my girlfriend.”
Oh, so that was it. Understanding the situation, she politely stepped back two paces to make way for the car.
—
Mu Dai had lain on the ground for a long time before slowly getting up. Her left hand felt numb, as if anesthetized, with each finger immovable. Her leg also seemed injured, causing excruciating pain whenever she moved it, but after carefully feeling along it inch by inch, she confirmed it wasn’t broken or dislocated.
She lowered her head, brought the lining of her clothes to her mouth, and bit down hard, grinding with her teeth until she tore off a strip of cloth. Using her mouth and right hand together, she managed to bandage the part where her fingernail had been torn back.
She remembered that when she fell, her flashlight had rolled nearby.
Limping painfully, she groped around until she finally found it and switched it on.
First, she shined it upward, estimating the distance to the top. It was higher than a typical six-story building, about 20 to 30 meters—a hollow cavern within the mountain.
Then she examined her surroundings.
Several corpses, most reduced to bare white bones. The empty eye sockets of the skulls made her shudder. As she backed away, her heel caught on something.
It was a dirty braid lying across a skeleton with broad bones—that shouldn’t be a woman’s braid. Long hair… was this someone from the Qing Dynasty?
There was also a rotting basket and a rust-covered machete.
Like an ordinary woodcutter.
The bones all showed fractures—some with directly snapped spines, others with split skulls. They had probably all died from falling.
Standing amid this pile of skeletons, strangely, beyond the fear, a sense of gratitude welled up in her heart: she hadn’t died from the fall.
It wasn’t just about martial arts skills or quick thinking. She had to thank her lifelong training in lightness kung fu. During that descent, she had desperately tried to grab, cling, and pull herself up.
Suddenly remembering something, she quickly lifted her outer garment to check her abdomen. It was a bloody mess. Under careful examination with the flashlight, she was relieved to see that none of the wounds were deep—none had reached her internal organs.
This cave was quite spacious but not complex, mostly visible at a glance. Sniffing carefully, the air had a musty dampness but wasn’t foul or choking. This suggested that air might be circulating through some crevices in the rock face, connecting to the outside world, so she wouldn’t suffocate.
There was no obvious flowing water, but when she reached out to touch the stone walls, some areas were damp.
In places like this, the lower areas would be damper and colder. Looking around, she noticed the right side was slightly elevated, but several shattered skeletons lay scattered there.
Mu Dai stood for a moment.
She said, “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t mean to trespass. Please forgive my intrusion. And please don’t scare me.”
After speaking, she stood for another moment, then bowed deeply before beginning to clear the area.
Gritting her teeth, she moved all the corpses, either carrying or dragging them to a far corner of the cave. While moving one, a cloth bag suddenly fell from it. The red drawstring had loosened. Mu Dai kicked it slightly with her foot, revealing silver coins inside.
Looking closer, she saw traditional Chinese characters cast on them reading “Made in the 8th Year of the Republic of China.”
So much money saved, who knows how much blood and sweat shed, only to suddenly fall here. All that silver money, left for later generations to lament.
Mu Dai thought, if she could safely get out, she would use this money to transport all these remains, set up a memorial hall, buy a burial plot, and give them all a proper burial.
Her master used to say that sometimes, it’s not about wanting to be a hero—it’s just that at that time, in that place, neither early nor late, you happen to encounter something. Whether it’s fate or trial, you need to do something.
After moving everything, she used baskets and stones to create a barrier around the edge, and finally picked up the machete as a good defensive weapon.
Her phone seemed broken, unable to turn on or show the time, but it was certainly well past midnight.
Back then, she had agreed with Luo Ren to contact him every day. Luo Ren had said, “Cao Yanhua’s disappearance is very suspicious, and the situation over there is uncertain, so I need to know your progress regularly. If something happens, I need to prepare quickly.”
She had nodded: “I understand. I’ll call every day.”
The first call never went through.
In the darkness, she raised the knife, twirled it around her wrist, chopping, slashing, and cutting horizontally. After a pause, she stood up, walked to a damp rock, tested the position, and began sharpening the blade.
The monotonous yet hard sound of metal being sharpened echoed through the dim cavern.
Mu Dai thought of Cao Yanhua, with her deathly pale face, cloth stuffed in her mouth, bound tightly.
She recalled that thin, sharp female voice that had come from behind her.
Whoever you are, you cannot harm me, my disciple, or my friends.
Yes, who was this person?
She and Yi Wansan had come to this village peacefully, not taking sides, not declaring any position, not showing hostility to anyone.
Why start with such brutal methods?
—
Yi Wansan huddled under the blanket.
“I’m not as good at martial arts as you, I run slower, I’m timid, and I’m afraid of the dark!”
The reasons came out forcefully, but based on male pride, he still felt somewhat embarrassed.
So, fighting off drowsiness, yawning, he waited.
Unable to accompany her on the dangerous journey, at least he could greet her when she returned—Yi Wansan didn’t demand much of himself.
After waiting for a long time, he finally heard the wooden door creak open.
Yi Wansan felt immensely relieved.
“Little boss lady, you’ve finally returned.”